Page 40 of Undone

"He declared himself unequal to the profession and resolved instead to study the law. Upon my father's death, he requested the immediate payment of three thousand pounds in lieu of any future claim upon the living. I consented. He accepted the money, relinquished every expectation of preferment, and wrote in terms which left no doubt that he considered the arrangement entirely satisfactory."

Elizabeth considered this in silence.

"He accepted money?"

"Yes. What became of every pound I cannot say. I know only that within a year it had all been spent."

"So soon?"

"He had acquired expensive habits long before my father's death. More than once I discharged debts which ought never to have become mine, believing I might yet preserve him from complete ruin. At length I understood that every act of assistance merely encouraged him to expect another."

Elizabeth could not conceal her astonishment.

"What happened afterwards?"

"The living soon became vacant, and he came to demand it with an arrogance I shall never forget, as though no previous agreement had ever existed and the preferment belonged to him by right."

"After accepting three thousand pounds in exchange for relinquishing it?"

"Yes."

"What reason did he have?"

"He declared that he had discovered the law to be uncongenial and had now determined upon ordination." Darcy's expression held no trace of amusement. "I knew too much of his habits to entrust the welfare of a parish to him, even had he retained any claim upon my father's intention. I refused. He answered me with abuse, and our connexion became strained."

Elizabeth reflected for some moments upon all she had heard. It was more absurd than she could have ever imagined.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy said, lowering his voice, "there is one circumstance of which I have not yet spoken. Until now, I had resolved never to disclose it beyond my own family, for it concerns my sister, and her happiness is dearer to me than my own reputation."

Elizabeth turned to him at once, forgetting the path beneath her feet. They came unconsciously to a halt, for the pain in his voice admitted of no inattention.

"I must beg you to receive what I am about to tell you in the strictest confidence. I would not reveal it were it not necessary for you to understand the full extent of Wickham's character."

Elizabeth swallowed. Until now, he had asked for no secrecy beyond that required by the unseen danger which compelled them to conceal their growing friendship. Whatever he was about to disclose must therefore be of the gravest consequence.

"You have my word," she said quietly.

He heaved a sigh, as though weighing how best to express what he was about to say.

"Two summers ago, whilst my sister was staying at Ramsgate, Wickham contrived to renew their acquaintance. Georgiana was but fifteen, affectionate, inexperienced, and disposed to think well of one she had known in childhood." He closed his eyes briefly, as though even the recollection caused him pain. "With the assistance of her governess, a woman whom he himself had recommended only a year before I dismissed him, he persuaded her to consent to an immediate elopement."

Elizabeth caught her breath, a gasp escaping from her.

"An elopement?" she whispered.

"It was by sheer chance, and, I must believe, by Providence, that I discovered their design before they could leave for Gretna Green. I had gone to Ramsgate upon business of an entirely different nature, never imagining I should find Wickham there. Georgiana, poor child, confessed everything before the scheme could be carried into effect."

Elizabeth stared at him in horror.

He did it for the sake of her fortune. Of that I have never entertained the slightest doubt," Darcy continued, the bitterness in his voice impossible to conceal. "Had Georgiana possessed neither family nor fortune, I do not believe he would have spared her a second thought."

"But, from all you have told me, he was almost as a brother to her."

"Wickham has never permitted conscience to stand in the way of his advantage. He knew perfectly well what such an elopement would have done to my sister's reputation. That knowledge did not deter him."

Elizabeth shook her head, scarcely able to collect her thoughts. The open, engaging countenance she had first encountered in Meryton now appeared nothing more than a pleasingdisguise, concealing selfishness and depravity she could scarcely comprehend.

"I begin to understand why his account troubled me from the first," she said quietly. "It seemed too convenient to be true. Had he invented the whole of it, I think I should have suspected him much sooner."